


All the Ways I Love You (Widobrave week 2020)

by purpleeyesandbowties



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: F/M, Widobrave Week, child oc, collected from my tumblr
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-29
Updated: 2020-03-29
Packaged: 2021-03-01 04:22:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 6,974
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23379052
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purpleeyesandbowties/pseuds/purpleeyesandbowties
Summary: All the prompts from widobrave week 2020Chapter 1: Pre-stream. Caleb and Nott haven't had positive physical contact since before they were thrown in jail.Chapter 2: Cons. The origin of Modern Literature.Chapter 3: Flowers. Flowers for the wedding, buttons for the marriage.Chapter 4: Favorite moment. Keg reflects on her conversation with Caleb and Nott.Chapter 5: Pining. Sometimes you miss how you used to be, and so does your best friend.Chapter 6: Alternate Universe. Red String of Fate Soulmate AU.Chapter 7: Post-campaign: Veth and Caleb take their child to meet an old friend.
Relationships: Nott/Caleb Widogast, Veth Brenatto/Caleb Widogast
Comments: 3
Kudos: 73





	1. Pre-stream

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, everyone! I posted all of these separately on my tumblr, sidras-tak, but decided it would be nice to have them in one fic for easy reference. Big thanks to the widobrave server for being so kind and welcoming. I hope you enjoy!

Caleb was hard to read. It was clear to Nott that he had some _issues._ He looked the way she had felt, those first few weeks as a goblin. The way he followed her directions in the heat of battle like he was used to someone else doing his thinking for him. Outside of battle, he was quiet and withdrawn—that is, when he wasn’t explosively angry. Though nightmares never made him cry out, Nott knew he had them. She could tell by the circles under his eyes the next day, and his mood was always stormier than usual. Nott decided to give it some time. Maybe he just needed to swing wildly between poles of emotion, to really _feel_ things again, and then he’d settle down. Their first bit of progress, Nott found out, came when he allowed her to touch him. That was one way that humans and halflings were similar: they both needed physical contact to keep sane and happy. Goblins didn’t, not really, but then, Nott wasn’t really a goblin. So one night when Caleb had deemed it too dangerous to light a campfire and Nott had grown sick of watching him shiver, she crawled into his lap. Caleb jumped in surprise.

“What are you doing?” he asked, with something like panic in his voice. Nott shrugged and curled up in a ball, resting her chin on his bony knee.

“It’s cold,” she said. “I’m warm, you’re warm, we’ll be warmer together.”

“Ah,” Caleb said. Hesitantly, he reached down and put a hand on Nott’s head. “Okay.”

Slowly, Caleb started petting Nott’s head. He scratched his fingers through her hair, then down her neck and back. She sighed in contentment and closed her eyes. It felt good— _really_ good—but this was more for Caleb than it was for her. She didn’t pretend to know what had landed him in that prison, exhausted, scared, angry at the world, but it was clear that he needed positive physical contact, to feel like he was caring for another living thing (and no, Frumpkin didn’t count).

After a few minutes, Caleb had relaxed considerably. When Nott risked a peek at his face, there as a gentle smile there. He probably was unaware he was smiling at all. Slowly, she shifted her position from curled up on his lap to sitting upright, facing him. She pressed her front against his, her much-smaller legs dangling off either side of his body—essentially, a full-body hug. With her claws curled for safety, she began rubbing his back in wide, comforting circles.

Caleb froze, but just for a second. When he spoke, his voice was a mixture of embarrassment and amusement. “Nott the Brave, what are you doing?”

“You ever hear the saying ‘you scratch my back, I scratch yours?’ It’s like that, but more literal.”

She could feel him about to protest, so she said, “Listen. I care about you, Caleb. I care about you so much that my face is effectively buried in your armpit right now—and you know how long it’s been since you’ve had a bath. So let me do this, okay?”

“Okay,” Caleb said quietly, and resumed rubbing her back as well. They fell asleep like that, and Caleb woke up with an ease about him that Nott had never seen. The scientist in her considered the experiment a tentative success—but there was no harm in repeating it again tonight, just to make sure. Right?


	2. Cons

Caleb put the book back on the shelf. Then he picked it up. Then he put it down. He dug his fingernails into his palms to keep him from picking it up again. Even as a speed-reader, he wouldn’t be able to get through the dense Zemnian text before the burly-looking shop owner physically kicked him out of the store. It was the combination of a bunch of little details that made this particular book so tempting to him—written in Zemnian with old dark brown leather bindings, an aura of magic, handwritten pages that crammed more knowledge into less space. It reminded him of home, it had arcane properties, and he knew it would teach him something new. But at twenty-five gold, it was twenty-four gold out of his price range. Unreachable.

“Well, let’s go before I do something stupid,” he muttered quietly to Nott. She had been hiding in the space under his arm, hidden by his baggy coat, clinging to his body and curling her own around to take up the least amount of room possible. The porcelain mask needed a quick repair—leather straps to hold it in place were next on their shopping list—so Nott thought it would be wiser to hide than risk running into a trigger-happy human with a grudge against goblins. But now she jabbed his ribs and hissed, “put your back to the shelf. Wait seven seconds, then start walking. Be normal.”

Caleb narrowed his eyes but did as he was told. He felt her move around—it was a strange feeling to let her crawl all over his body with her sharp little claws to anchor her; he reflected he might have to invest in stronger material for his shirts or resign himself to patching a lot of tiny holes. He counted out the seconds slowly, giving her a little more leeway than she’d asked for, and then began walking.

“Not buying?” the shopkeep asked.

“Ah. Too rich for my blood. Perhaps after payday,” Caleb said with a tight smile. Nott had fitted herself back into her usual spot in his coat and he pulled it a little tighter around him. Apparently, Nott hadn’t been expecting that, because she squeaked in surprise. Caleb tried, a second too late, to cover it with a cough.

“Wha—” the shopkeep said, instantly on alert. “What was that? Boy, what you trying to pull?”

“Run,” Nott demanded from inside his coat. He took off at a dead run, straight out the door. The shopkeep swore and heaved himself over the counter.

“Stop! Hey!” he yelled. Nott dropped down from Caleb, hitting the dusty ground running, and took off on all fours. In her mouth was a small blue book. Quicker than him by a fair bit, she passed him up and kept running.

“Goblin!” the shopkeep shouted. Then, with a fair bit more rage: “Thief!”

Caleb watched, helpless and running as fast as his feet could carry him, as the shopkeep raised his crossbow and shot Nott square in the back. She went down with a thud, screeching out in pain. The blue book fell on the ground.

Caleb shouted, too, some combination of a swear word and a panicked scream. He reached her still, tiny body a few seconds later. He didn’t stop to think—just scooped her up in his arms with the bolt still sprouting from her shoulder blades. The sight made him swallow back bile.

The town flew by as Caleb ran. Eventually, the sound of the shopkeep’s shouting and crossbow shots faded into the distance. Caleb dashed into an alley and slammed his back against the brick wall, breathing heavily. He slowly sank down on the ground, shaking and sweating, with Nott lolling, deathly, in his arms. He thought the years in the asylum had drained him of any tears he had left, but he could feel them welling up as he looked down at his little friend, his companion these past two months, and the person he trusted most in the world.

Then Nott opened her eyes.

“Hey, hey. Caleb, I’m okay,” she said. She wiggled out of Caleb’s arms and dusted herself off.

“What,” Caleb said flatly. Nott grinned, all teeth and mischief, and shrugged off her cloak.

“Look,” she said, turning around. The book, the one Caleb had been pining after, was stuffed into her waistband, pressed up against her back. The shopkeeper’s crossbow bolt was sticking out of it.

“Better than leather armor, huh?”

Nott yanked the bolt out and presented the book to Caleb with a showman’s flourish. “We’re gonna call that one ‘modern literature’, okay?”

Caleb laughed, taking the book from her hands, and tried to convince his heart that it didn’t need to tear itself apart anymore. Nott was safe, they’d gotten away as clean as they could, and he had the book. His body didn’t take the hint from his mind, though, and tears started dripping down his cheeks.

“You need to be more careful,” he said seriously. Nott ran her hand across his cheek.

“Careful isn’t exactly our style, Lebby. But I’ll try. Okay?”

He didn’t bother to answer, just hugged her close.


	3. Flowers

Flowers: that was Veth’s one request when Jester asked what she wanted. “Not buttons?” Jester had asked teasingly.

“No. Buttons are for collecting. They’ll always be there, the same as they were the day before. Flowers are for cherishing. They’re beautiful but they don’t last as long—just a day or so, once they’re picked. Flowers for the wedding.” Her smile turned mischievous. “Buttons for the _marriage_.”

“You got it,” Jester said with a wink, and went to make some drastic changes to the design of her honeymoon present. She was going to need a _lot_ of buttons.

The wedding of Veth and Caleb might have been a small affair, comparatively, but the Mighty Nein threw themselves into it with all the seriousness of dragon-fighting. Fjord organized labor according to his teammates’ strengths—also giving himself every odd job one of the others didn’t have time for. Caduceus cooked and helped keep the greenery healthy and vibrant. Beau did the heavy lifting of setting up the venue and ran errands for everyone else. Jester designed Veth’s wedding dress and Caleb’s robes—if they thought the party in Nicodranas was fancy, they had another thing coming. She didn’t even slip an image of the Traveler or a phallus in with the embroidery on Caleb’s coat. It was _that_ serious. Yasha took care of the flowers. She arranged them in bouquets—one for every member of the Nein, with the biggest, most extravagant ones for Caleb and Veth. She braided crowns and strung up chains of them across balconies and doorways. With Caleb’s help with transportation, she gathered flowers from every place they had a connection to and brought them back to the Xhorhaus. The ceremony was to take place there. Veth had nixed the beaches of Nicodranas for obvious reasons, and winter in the Empire was hardly conducive for a celebration. So they both said they’d rather go back home, back to the first place where their little family had put down roots. The tree—Caduceus had asked it’s permission—was more than happy to provide shelter and venue for the occasion.

The night before the wedding, Yasha tracked Veth and Caleb down. “Everything’s in order for tomorrow. I made a bouquet for each you, don’t worry.”

“But?” Veth asked, frowning. Yasha smiled, a nervous, tight thing that made Veth’s frown deeper.

“But, I also made something else. Here.”

She opened her hands to reveal delicate corsages of dried flowers, one in each palm. They were unique, a strange mix of locations and ages, and the flowers didn’t mesh well together visually. The petals were fragile and faded.

“These are the flowers you were going to bring to your wife,” Caleb said. 

Veth reached out, but couldn’t bring herself to touch the corsage, feeling like if she did, it would crumble into nothing. Caleb did not move, but stared at the flowers as if they might impart some silent wisdom to him. Yasha said, “On loan. I do want to bring them to her, but…she’d love it, knowing the flowers I bring her had been at a wedding.”

“Was she a romantic?” Veth asked.

“Yes. Not as much as me, though. She would make fun of me for it, sometimes.” Yasha’s expression grew distant and sad, but that sadness was distant, too, old and well-worn.

Quietly, Caleb said, “You once said your tribe marries for life. Do you have a problem with Veth and I marrying, even though she’s already married to Yeza?”

Yasha gave it a thoughtful pause. “Hmm. No. I did technically break up an engagement when I ran away with Zuala—it was my own engagement, but still. But I’ve seen, time and time again, how much you two love each other. Of course seeing you married makes me happy. I won’t ever marry again….but that doesn’t mean my friends have to stay apart. I…it gives me hope to see you married, actually. There are few things as beautiful as a promise to love each other.”

“Thanks,” Veth said, meaning it for two things. “I would be honored to wear your wife’s flowers.”

“As would I,” Caleb added, taking Veth’s hand and squeezing it. Veth squeezed back.

“Good,” Yasha said, relieved. “Are you nervous for tomorrow?”

Veth waved a hand. “Nah. I’ve been through a lot scarier than a wedding. Including my first wedding. Don’t ever get married at twenty—it’s terrifying. But I’m not scared now.”

Yasha merely smiled and placed the corsages in their hands.

There were flowers everywhere at that wedding, both for decor and in the guests’ wardrobe. Luc and Yeza were gifted the large bouquets that had been meant for Veth and Caleb. Luc’s bouquet was almost as large as he was, but he pushed the flowers away from his face and carried them with pride, up the aisle, and stood next to his mother’s side at the base of the tree. She gave him and Yeza a hug and kiss each, and then turned to join hands with Caleb. He was decked out in as many flowers as Veth—threaded through his hair, tucked into his clothes, a crown of them resting on his head. He smiled and touched the small corsage pinned to his chest. Veth touched hers as well, tied to her wrist with a bit of shiny ribbon. Caduceus called his friends to attention, standing in front of Veth and Caleb with his staff at the ready. As he invited Veth and Caleb to speak their vows, he tapped his staff against the ground and coaxed a more vibrant blossom out of the plant life around him. Words of love and flowers bloomed all around them, welcoming them into the rest of their lives.


	4. Favorite Moment

In her room with Nila, Keg lit up a cigarette and flopped down on the bed. All she wanted to do was sleep, push those terrible images of battle out of her head. Well, sleep wouldn’t take care of that. It would take a keg of a different kind, the kind she couldn’t afford to indulge in right now. So a distraction would have to suffice. She rolled over to face Nila, who was sitting calmly in the corner of the room, a few pillows from the bed cushioning her.

“Hey, how much you wanna bet that Nott and Caleb are actually boning?”

Nila blinked. “What?”

“You heard them back there. Nott was protesting the idea that she and Caleb were fucking a little _too_ much, in my opinion. And Caleb got all defensive when he thought I had besmirched her honor.” Keg put her hands behind her head. “I’m just saying, that was pretty suspicious.”

“What purpose would it serve them to lie about such a thing?” Nila asked, frowning. Keg gave half a shrug, as best she could from her reclined position.

“Eh. Goblin woman and a human man? Might turn some heads, and not in a good way, even in Shady Creek Run. Could be hiding it for that reason. In which case, I kind of feel bad for outing them like that….”

Keg thought back to the interaction—Nott’s face had flushed, both with the implication that she was involved with Caleb and then, later, with a prickle of shame, of self-loathing. Keg’s cigarette drooped in her mouth a little. That was something she could sympathize with, actually. And Caleb had looked uncomfortable throughout that whole conversation. If they really weren’t together, he had to watch his friend berate and devalue herself for his sake. And if they were a couple, he was watching his lover lie to their friends and shame herself. Either way, not a great look. Keg groaned inwardly.

“Shit. I’m gonna have to say I’m sorry, aren’t I?”

“That would be the polite thing to do,” Nila agreed. “I have some paper and ink, if you’d like to draft up an apology letter. I am working on apologies with my son. He finds it helpful to write out his thoughts first, then deliver the message. Well, I say ‘write’. He does more drawing than anything else. But he is practicing!”

Nila’s face lit up as she talked about her son. Keg took in that light, reflected back to Nott’s face as she talked about Caleb’s handsomeness, his charming attitude. Even if Keg didn’t agree with her assessment of Caleb, she saw that same light in Nott’s eyes as she talked about him, just masked under self-hatred. Keg swallowed hard and took the paper from Nila’s outstretched hand. It didn’t matter if Nott and Caleb were doing more than just sleeping tonight, or what kind of comfort they found in each other. They loved each other, and Keg had made a mockery of that.

“I’m—uh, I need some practice, too. Will you help me?” she asked sheepishly. Nila’s ears twitched happily.

“Of course!”

Keg went through several pages of Nila’s paper and threw at least one attempt across the room in frustration. But at least when she woke up in the morning, she’d be able to right one wrong she’d done.


	5. Pining

Veth shut the door to her room, feeling inordinately guilty about what she was about to do. Caleb was gone, spending time with Beau for the day. The rest had gone shopping or sightseeing, and Fjord had mentioned, pointedly, that it would be nice if no one used the hot tub room for the next few hours. So Veth knew she would have some time to herself. Alone in her room, she dragged the large mirror that had been shoved in a corner since she’d moved in here to the middle of the room. She propped it against the far wall and took a deep breath. Yellow dress, brown skin, silky hair, brown eyes. Soft curves, double chin. She squeezed her eyes shut and cast Disguise Self. Yellow dress, green skin, scraggly hair, yellow eyes. Jutting elbows, bony ribs. Nott the Brave looked back at her, eyes wide and unblinking.

“Hey,” she said, watching the word form on the lips of the Nott in the mirror. When she smiled, she was quietly delighted and horrified by the number of teeth in her mouth.

She had hated being Nott.

She had some of the best times in her life as Nott.

As much as her goblin form had been a prison, she had felt freer as Nott. Less mother, less wife. More like a person, more like a monster—able to act selfishly without remorse. Put herself first, that’s what goblins did. Eat and drink too much, goblins had notorious appetites. Be violent and bawdy and _too much,_ and no one ever thought of her that way, because it was how a goblin was _supposed_ to act.

She didn’t want to be Nott again, but now that she knew it was an illusion, a choice she could drop at a moment’s notice, she felt strangely drawn to who she used to be. It was an hour’s pretending at most, and that’s all it would ever be. Nervously, she stepped out of her dress. The material slipped off her slim shoulders easily and pooled on the floor. She walked up to the mirror, examining every inch of the body she used to inhabit. She could count her ribs, mark every scar by the darker shade of green, see how deadly those claws had been. It felt odd, disconnected. Had this really been her? Had she lived in this body? She admired her sharp teeth and bright eyes. Had she always had those dark green freckles spilling across her shoulders? There was something beautiful about the fragile curve of her spine, her clawed feet, the delicate twitching of her long ears. Of course, she preferred her soft, generous body as Veth, but there was monstrous beauty in this, too.

Then the door opened.

“Veth, I—” Caleb said, looking up from a book in his hand just a moment too soon. His eyes went wide and the book fell from his hand with a thud. Veth dropped the illusion spell and dove for her clothes. Without a word, Caleb picked up his book, turned around, and left. The door creaked closed behind him. Veth swore and buried her burning face in her dress.

Caleb walked straight down the hall. Beau, leaning against the wall, said, “Hey, I thought you were gonna ask Veth if she wanted to practice that spell.”

Caleb just pressed his lips together and kept moving.

“Hey,” Beau said, chasing after him. “What gives?”

Caleb practically sprinted downstairs, across the lab, and into his bedroom.

“Hey, Caleb, don’t make me break down this door, you know I could!” Beau shouted at him. She pounded on the door. “Hey, what’s going on?”

The door swung open and Caleb pulled her in by her coat. She yelped. As soon as Beau cleared the door, Caleb let go of her coat, shut the door, and sat down on his bed with his head in his hands.

“What’s going on?” Beau asked, kinder this time. Caleb was shaking, his fingers scrabbling uselessly at the fabric of his coat sleeves. “You’re scaring me, Caleb, what is it?”

Caleb glanced up quickly, his face stuck between what was clearly supposed to be a smile and his obvious distress. He looked down, the fall of his hair hiding his grimace.

“Veth. She—she had disguised herself as Nott. It startled me.”

Beau’s brow furrowed. “As Nott?”

Caleb nodded jerkily. “Didn’t expect it.”

“Yeah,” Beau said slowly. She sat down next to him. Attempting to lighten the mood, she said, “well, at least you didn’t throw fire at her. You have that tendency when you’re startled.”

“Don’t even joke about that,” Caleb reproached. Beau patted his back.

“Sorry. Bad joke.”

“Yeah,” Caleb said. He breathed deeply until the shaking subsided. Beau didn’t push him. If he wanted to tell her why seeing Veth-as-Nott had made him come apart, he would. And if he wanted to shove this down in his overflowing repression pit, she’d be there for that, too. Eventually, he said, “I know they’re the same person. She’s right there. I never lost her. I don’t _need_ to mourn her.”

“But you are,” Beau filled in. She put an arm around him. “It’s okay.”

“It’s not. It’s disgusting. I know she’s happier now. I should be happy for her.”

“However you’re feeling is okay. It’s all okay.”

Caleb took a shuddering breath. Forlornly, he said, “she hardly touches me now. We don’t share a bedroll anymore. It feels wrong to pick her up and hold her. I miss her. Seeing her as Nott….reminded me of how _much_ I miss her.”

Beau made a low hum in the back of her throat and rocked him back and forth.

“Your feelings for her are the same, though, right? You still love her?”

“Of course,” he said, tiredly.

“Then what’s the problem?”

“I have to second-guess every interaction. Are we standing too close? Am I smiling too fondly? Is this forehead kiss an invitation for infidelity, or this hug too intimate? Am I taking her away from her family by asking her to stay?”

Beau blew a raspberry. “Oh, it’s like _that.”_

Caleb sighed and nodded. He was done talking about it, she could tell, so she let him go. His posture straightened and he took a deep breath. When he opened his eyes, his expression and body language were back to normal, as if nothing at all had happened.

He said, “This does not leave the room. Veth cannot know.”

“Obviously,” Beau said. “I’m not stupid.”

Caleb smiled briefly, bitterly. “No. Just me. The stupid one.”


	6. Alternate Universe

Red strings of fate were rare enough as it was. The Mighty Nein stuck out as it was. So the appearance of a red string, between Nott’s left pinky and Caleb’s, was _fucking terrible,_ in her opinion. No more easy cons where they pretended to be strangers. Every creature who fought them would know that the best way to win would be to take out the other. One tiny addition made bigger targets on their backs, in and out of battle. Caleb and Nott were not together, not in the traditional sense of the word, but with that blasted red string hanging between them for the world to see, who would believe it? No more brushing off tender moments as platonic. No more pretending feelings were anything more than a passing crush. No more safety. And if Nott-the-Brave-The-Goblin thought it was terrible for all those reasons, Nott-Who-Was-Secretly-Veth-Brenatto thought it was worse.

The string had appeared after Caleb told Nott and Beau the truth about his past, as she promised to stay by his side until he could forgive himself for the sins he’d committed. _Stupid_. She never should have said that out loud, never should have put a life-long pledge into the air where it could be overheard by gods and fates and be acted upon; such a strong oath that the fates mistook it for a fated bond of commitment, fidelity, love. Though, if she were honest with herself, she _was_ committed to Caleb. And she loved him. Gods, did she love him. But the fidelity part….wasn’t she breaking that by virtue of already being married?

“We…should talk about this,” Caleb said, once Beau (and Molly) had made their exits. He lifted his hand to examine the string. Nott turned away, not wanting to see the curiosity and reverence on his face. No matter her current feelings on the string, every child in the Empire grew up hearing fairy tales about them—she’d been a wide-eyed child once, and Caleb obviously had, too.

“Nope,” she said stubbornly, sitting down on the bed and crossing her arms, fully turning her back to Caleb. The string stretched to allow her to move, slack enough to curl around her body without becoming taut, never in danger of snapping. She felt Caleb pick up some of the slack and weigh it in his hand. There was a soft tug around her pinkie and she whipped around to see him pulling gently on the string near his hand. He dropped it guiltily. She turned away again.

“The others have already seen it. Mollymauk and Beau at least, and even if they keep it quiet, it’s not like we can hide it from the group. We should at least have a plan in place. Some sort of explanation.”

“I’m trying to sleep,” Nott said, pointedly staring at the wall.

“You’re not lying down.”

“Goblins sleep sitting up.”

Caleb scoffed in a way that meant _you’re full of shit_. “Fine. We don’t have to talk about it. Tonight.”

Nott nodded sharply. Eventually, Caleb picked up the string again. Despite herself, she chuckled. Of course he wouldn’t be able to leave a new arcane unknown alone. She let him fiddle and did her best to keep her mind blank. Just as she was drifting off into a light sleep, still curled up with her chin on her knees, Caleb began talking, quietly.

“I know why you’re upset. After what I’ve just told you, of course you are. And I kept—everything that I’ve done—from you for so long. You’re right to be mad. You deserve a String who is honest, kind. Someone more deserving of you.”

That was _officially_ too much for Nott. She turned around and dangled her legs off the edge of the bed.

“Caleb. You can’t be serious,” she grouched, well beyond annoyed.

Caleb looked up and frowned. His eyes were so full of sorrow and self-loathing she was surprised that he wasn’t physically drowning in it. Nott felt her bad mood soften. She took his hand, covering it with her two smaller ones. “Didn’t you hear what I just said? I’m going to be by your side, no matter what. And this,” she said, touching the red string, “is proof of that.”

The last part had come out a little dry and annoyed, but she felt she was owed that by the universe at large.

Caleb said nothing, his head dropping to break eye contact with Nott and focus instead on their hands, twined together. Nott sighed, weighing how much to tell him.

“This…the string. It’s unexpected. Definitely. I—I just assumed I’d never have one.”

That was true. Yeza had once asked her if she thought their string would ever appear. He and Veth had been waiting for it, on their wedding day, the day Luc was born, all the days after. Once she was Nott, she just kind of accepted she wouldn’t have one—no one, not even kind, loving Yeza, could be fated to love a goblin.

“But it’s not _bad,”_ Nott hedged. Also true. It did a lot, actually, to wash away some of the black hatred in her heart against herself, this goblin who no one could love. Categorical proof that she was wrong.

“But you’re not happy,” Caleb said. He shrunk in on himself a little further. “I understand.”

That almost made Nott laugh. “Caleb. Your soulmate is a goblin. _You_ can’t be happy with this.”

Caleb’s head whipped up. “My soulmate is you,” he snapped. “Goblin or not, it’s you. Of everyone in this group—everyone I’ve met—I’d have it be you every time.”

He flushed and dropped his chin again. Nott put a hand under his chin and lifted it, just a little.

“You just told me, not an hour ago, that you used to be in love. What about that person?”

“She’s not you,” Caleb said simply. “If I was meant to be with—with her….”

He took a moment to shake his head, as if to clear it. Nott’s heart clenched. She knew what it meant, for him to almost say her name aloud—she hadn’t spoken Yeza’s since she died. He took a deep breath and continued, “If I was meant to be with her, I would have a string with her, or the string between you and I wouldn’t have manifested.”

He smiled wanly. “You ask if I am happy? Am I happy that my greatest friend heard the horrors of my past and pledged herself to me, regardless? I am, Nott. I am happy that you’re my soulmate.”

He took a moment to study her face, then quirked his eyebrow and said, “not that I don’t trust your word alone, but it is nice to have a fated promise of your loyalty.”

“This doesn’t have to change anything between us,” Nott said.

“And if it does? Would that bother you?”

“No,” Nott said, too quickly. It might a problem later, of course, if she ever got back to her body and her husband, but that was a distant, out-of-focus future. Caleb was right here, in front of her, warm and breathing and looking at her _so_ earnestly. “Would it bother you?”

Caleb took the string hanging between them, gathered it up, and looped it loosely around their joined hands. He pressed his lips against her knuckles. Less than a kiss, somehow more significant. His voice low and almost fierce, he said, “This is unexpected, as you said. Unprecedented, maybe. But you and I will figure it out. We must simply help each other be brave.”

Despite his words, Nott knew which of them needed to be brave right now. She kissed him, sweetly, and rested their foreheads together. There was relief in his eyes, but also joy, and that, more than anything, made Nott finally smile.

She said, “Then I’m glad it’s me and you. We make each other brave.”


	7. Post-Campaign

The Mighty Nein had houses everywhere. No one could agree where to settle, so they settled all over. The Brenattos and Caleb took a large, comfortable house in Nicodranas, as far from the shore as they could get. Jester settled with Marion and the Gentleman in a town a few miles outside of Zadash. Yasha took care of the house in Xhorhas, aided by Beau, when she could be pulled away from the Cobalt Soul. Caduceus’ family enlarged and strengthened the borders of the Blooming Grove to accommodate a guesthouse just off the property, for pilgrims sent by the Wildmother and families visiting their tea-growing ancestors. That was where Fjord hung his hat, and he was a wonderful caretaker of the people of the Blooming Grove, just as Caduceus was a wonderful caretaker of its plants. Everyone in the Mighty Nein traveled frequently between houses, spending time with each other, pursuing their interests and goals, causing trouble and fixing problems. There was no house that didn’t have the mark of each and every member of the Nein somewhere in it.

And there was one more house. It was tiny, hardly more than a room surrounded by four walls a roof. But it was sturdy, and enchanted to be warm and safe. It was to this house that Veth and Caleb were traveling, on foot, mostly unaided by magic, with a child in tow.

(During storytime, the week before, Holly had asked for a story about their various aunts and uncles. Veth and Caleb were happy to indulge, and told them an early tale of a band of misfits and gnolls in mine shafts—with the violence tuned down to the five-year-old’s level, of course.

“Mama, how come I’ve never met Uncle Molly?” Holly asked, after the story had come to a close.

“Oh, sweetie,” Veth said, “We told you that Uncle Molly passed away a long time ago, remember?”

“Yeah, but Uncle Caduceus can talk to the dead. So it shouldn’t matter. Right, Papa?”

Caleb’s lips pressed together and he exhaled through his nose. “Not this one, I’m afraid.”

“Why not?”

“Uncle Molly wouldn’t like it,” Veth said. “He would want to remain at peace.”

Holly made a face and blew a raspberry, a sure sign that they both accepted the explanation and were annoyed by it.

As Veth tucked them into bed, she said, “We can take you to see where he’s resting, if you want. I think you’re old enough to go on adventures, now.”

Hastily, Caleb added, “Adventures with Mama and Papa, okay? No striking out on your own quite yet, young one.”

“Is Daddy coming with us?” Holly asked. Veth shook her head. “I’ll ask, but I’m guessing that Daddy is going to stay behind with Luc. He doesn’t like adventures very much.”

Holly took a little longer than usual to settle down that night, chattering away about the trip they were going to take, including all the gnolls they were going to kill with Mama and Papa’s help. Veth made a silent note to check with Beau for some appropriate children’s stories to read before bed in the future).

So that was how Veth, Caleb, and their five-year-old found themselves making the trek to Glory Run Road, the little house built by the Mighty Nein, and Molly’s grave. Holly was over the moons about going on a real adventure with their parents, and Caleb and Veth took turns having panic attacks about something happening to their child on the road.

“If we run into those fuckin’ Syphilis bandits again, I swear….” Veth muttered to herself. Caleb laughed.

“I don’t think that’s likely, my love. But we have the Tiny Hut and your crossbow. And I prepared Disintegrate today, just in case. We’ll be safe.”

“I know, I know. I just worry.”

Between them, Holly skipped along. The hand held by Caleb was lifted up as high as they could get it, due to the height difference. Every once in a while, they would shake out their arm, pronounce it in need of a rest, and walk backwards so Caleb could hold their other hand.

Travel was thankfully uneventful and Holly took well to traveling—clearly an adventurer in the making. On the third day, Caleb took a sharp turn off the main road and began pushing through the rougher terrain that surrounded it.

“Is this the place?” Veth asked. He nodded silently. Holly held up their arms, so he scooped them up and put them on his shoulders.

“Look there,” he said, pointing a few hundred yards ahead. “Can you see that little house up there? That’s where Uncle Molly is.”

Molly’s coat was waiting for them, tattered by weather and faded with the passing years. Be it from dumb luck, superstition, or divine intervention, no one had dared disturb the grave marker—or if they had, the coat had been quickly restored to its rightful place. Some kind soul had enchanted the coat to stay in place on its branch, unbothered by push and pull of the wind. The flowers that Caduceus had started had grown into a tiny meadow, as colorful and bright as their master had been.

Despite the isolated location of the grave, the site itself and the little house a few dozen yards away from it were welcoming. Veth and Caleb brought Holly into the small house to put down their bags and take a moment to collect themselves. The interior of the house was comfortable, and there were several beds of varying sizes. On each wall was a painted message, repeated over and over in different languages. Veth picked up Holly and brought them over to the wall that had a message written in Halfling.

_The Mighty Nein welcomes you to the final resting place of Mollymauk Tealeaf. Take shelter here as you pass through. Eat and drink as you require. In return, we ask that you leave behind a bottle of something strong and lively for the next traveler passing through—Molly enjoyed anything that would surprise him. Leave every place better than how you found it._

The words _Long May He Reign_ were carved into the wood above the door, in dozens of different languages. A small shrine to the Moonweaver was set up in the far corner, and the corner nearest to the door housed a handful of chairs and a sturdy table with shelves built underneath it. The shelves held non-perishable provisions for a simple, filling meal and about a dozen diverse bottles of booze. Nott’s old bottomless flask had joined the collection several years prior, and it still sat among the bottles.

Holly solemnly listened as their mother read the message aloud. Then they wiggled out of Veth’s arms and said, “I wanna met him now.”

Outside, Caleb spread a blanket out on the grass by the coat and sat down with his family.

“Hello, Mollymauk,” he said, pulling Holly onto his lap. “There is someone here who would like to meet you. Holly?”

The child perked up. They waved at the coat. “Hi, Mr. Molly. My name is Holly Brave Brenatto-Widogast. I’m five. Mama and Papa are your friends. Mama says when you knew her, she was a goblin called Nott. So when I say Mama, that’s who I’m talking about. She says I came to visit you when I was still in her tummy. But now I’m meeting you for real! I wish I could have met you while you were alive, ‘cause our names match. Molly and Holly. I think that’s cool.”

They paused. “You have a nice coat. It looks like a painting that Aunt Jester made for me once. Papa says you fought with swords. That’s so cool! My brother Luc started training with his crossbow when he was five, so I think I’m old enough to start learning sword-fighting. But Daddy says no.”

“That’s right,” Caleb said. “You can wait until you’re a little older until you go full blood-hunter on us.”

He gave Holly a quick hug, which made the child burrow their face into Caleb’s coat for a few long moments. When they spoke again, their voice was choked up. “I don’t like that Uncle Molly is dead. I never got to meet him. It’s not fair.”

“I know, darling,” Caleb soothed. Veth ran her hand through Holly’s short red hair comfortingly.

“We miss him,” Veth said. “In a lot of ways, his death made us—the Mighty Nein, and me and your father—be better people. If he hadn’t died, we might have stayed selfish. We owe a lot to Molly. But that doesn’t mean we can’t miss him.”

“That’s why we come to visit him sometimes. That’s why we brought you with us, this time,” Caleb added.

“How did he die? Did he get sick?”

Veth looked over at Caleb, silently asking him a question. They were well past the point they where they needed a twisted wire to communicate silently. _Are they old enough to know that story? Should we tell them?_

 _They’ll learn from someone, somehow,_ Caleb’s eyes answered. Veth sighed and settled back on the blanket. Caleb took one of her hands and kissed it, a reminder that he was here with her.

“Once upon a time, a group of friends were torn apart by a cruel man named Lorenzo…”

And as she sat at the grave of her friend, with her husband at her side, she told her child the story of a man whose end was, in many ways, their beginning.

**Author's Note:**

> Find me at sidras-tak or brenthebrave on tumblr, or discord at KitS#4004!


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